My ‘Once Upon a Time’…
“What a good thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a hundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who were not worthy of her? And did not she come awake exactly at the right moment when the right prince kissed her?” – Children’s fantasy writer, George MacDonald
In 2014, a good friend said to me, “Your story of romance, Vanessa, will be grand, because that’s who you are.”
I only wish I had believed her. As a child in Africa, I used to curl up in my mother’s big, soft, plain brown armchair and read Grimm’s Fairy Tales for hours. Without television or other media distractions, my entertainment was nature and books—and well—my imagination. I was a beautiful princess living in a castle who fell in love with a prince, but there was always a long journey before that love was actualized. How prophetic my imagination was.
As we grow older, our imaginative dreams fade. Reality speaks differently. And so, I never imagined that my love story would involve Rome, the Eternal City whose symbolic structures like the coliseum speak of the greatest empire the world has ever known, whose irreplaceable marble carvings, structures and paintings by Michelangelo are caught in an everlasting web of ancient and modern.
Yet in 2018 at 39 years of age after having visited 27 countries with captivating romantic sites by myself again and again, lived on three continents, and studied and taught world history and Latin, I found myself in Rome. To top it off, it hadn’t been my idea—I had been swept away to Rome by the man I was in love with.
I asked myself, as I had asked My Love so many times before, “Is this real?”
Not far from our hotel was a certain bridge that spans the Tiber river. Fourteen angels carved by the great sculptor Bernini grace its sides, each displaying a unique message of the Passion of the Christ. The Castel Sant ‘Angelo, the Castle of the Holy Angel, sits at the head of the bridge, its underground passages secretly connecting the Vatican to the castle’s private quarters and medieval Rome.
Castles and statues of angels are my favorite structures, and I have been particularly fascinated by both for as long as I can remember. How odd it seemed that my two favorite things combined together there with layer upon layer of history. I mentioned this to Florian, and we decided that we’d like to tour it if we had time amidst the main attractions. I asked someone to take a picture of us on the bridge in front of the castle, not realizing that it would house an even greater story for me personally a few days later.
Signs He Wants to Marry You
That first evening thunder clapped, breaking all sound in its wake. Lightning struck, and rain poured down on top of us. Our hotel still at least a mile away, we had given up running to shelter. Instead, we simply stood laughing on the bridge before the Castel Sant ‘Angelo, arms spread wide underneath the storm in the darkness. In the distance to the left, Saint Peter’s Dome glowed with light within the darkening storm.
Again, I asked, “Is this real?”
That next morning, we were due to tour Saint Peter’s Church and Dome. My heart leapt with anticipation. Florian had declared that he would marry me to his family just two weeks after we had met. I had come to Germany and now Rome to answer this question. I did not know what views lay up high in Peter’s Dome, but I imagined that he would ask me to marry him there.
To my great horror, I misread the email about our guided tour and we arrived at the wrong starting location!
I was undone.
Oh God! I thought. I’ve completely ruined the most epic and romantic moment of my life!
Florian ran to see if he could catch our group. I called the tour agency and talked to other tour guides in the vicinity to no avail. And I began to cry.
Not just cry. Weep.
I couldn’t believe it. I had ruined the moment I had waited 39 years for.
Florian simply wrapped his arms around me and said, “It’s okay, Vanessa. Maybe we can just see the church tomorrow instead.”
After that I gave up my expectations and relaxed, delving into the experience of that great city and almost forgetting that the big moment was yet to come. We were able to tour both Saint Peter’s church and dome, the coliseum and other Roman ruins sites the following days.
Two nights later, Florian was quiet at dinner. He was usually boisterous, telling me stories about his life, family and friends, or sharing certain thoughts on a matter. He began slowly, almost hesitantly, “Vanessa. I want to tell you all of the things I love about you….”
“You are beautiful and so attractive to me. I am fascinated by you.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I loved and yearned for the words he spoke, yet I had never before received such adoration.
“I love your temperament, the fact that you want to have the best relationship possible and that you want to connect emotionally to get there. I love that you live in La La Land, and that you daydream about the good in life, and what you want to have and be...”
On and on Florian talked, and I soaked up every single syllable as only a hopeless romantic like me can do. There I was in the middle of one of the world’s most historic and magnificent cities with the man that I loved—something I had imagined and hoped for my entire life. And yes, I was in the middle of a grander story than even I could have imagined.
That next afternoon we had a break in our scheduled tours, and Florian casually mentioned that we should tour the Castle of the Holy Angel. We wandered through floor after floor of ancient Roman rooms, pope’s private chambers, patios with statues and views. Beginning with the emperor Hadrian, who built the castle as his future Mausoleum, succeeding Roman emperors and later medieval popes, built layer upon layer of the castle, adding rooms and courtyards for a thousand years. The Castle of the Holy Angel was named after a legend. In 590, the archangel Michael appeared on top of the castle and sheathed his sword to signify the end of a scourging plague. Today, a large statue of Michael rests atop the castle overlooking the highest and largest patio, where there is also a breathtaking view of medieval Rome and Saint Peter’s Dome, the most magnificent structure designed by Michelangelo, and most important symbol of the Catholic Church.
By the time we reached the top patio, I was absorbed in the grand statue of archangel Michael and the majestic view of the entire city. I made a selfie video describing the history and showing the fantastic view of Rome. Only later did I notice that Florian was off by himself in the background pacing and rummaging through his pockets.
The Moment Every Girl Waits For
Florian soon returned to me, distracted. I let him know that I’d like someone to take pictures of us. He firmly grabbed by hand and led me toward the rear of the patio away from other people, mumbling, “Yes, we can do that,” though he made no move to do so.
My heart began to race. Was this it?
I had a premonition that Florian would ask me to marry him at a high place with a beautiful view of Rome, but I thought that being at the Castle of the Holy Angel was my idea. I did not know that he had already researched the castle several weeks before and decided that he would propose there.
When we reached the left corner of the patio below the statue of Michael, he turned back toward me and tenderly spoke, “The words I spoke to you yesterday describe perfectly how I feel.” His clear blue eyes gazed into mine, his lips curved upwards in a nervous smile, as if waiting for me to encourage him onward.
The only word I could muster was, “Okay.”
Then he inhaled deeply to calm himself and stated, “I think now is a good time to do it.” He took in a deep breath and knelt down on one knee. “I want to ask you if you would like to be my wife.”
I stood stunned, feeling like I couldn’t believe that THIS was the moment of all moments I had been waiting for since my first crush in Kindergarten. The castle setting and surrounding experience was the most perfect place; it fully encapsulated who I was better than I could have thought of myself. It felt like minutes before I was able to speak, although it must have only been seconds. I finally grabbed his face with my hands and said, “Of course. I want to be your wife.”
The Dream of Ideal Love
The poetic words of Lord Byron, “Oh Rome! City of the soul!” can only be felt when you witness the City of Light for yourself. It grabs onto your soul to rest there, like it is infusing magic to keep you believing that true love does exist and fairy tales do come true, as they have for me…
Hold on to your dreams and believe in them, however outlandish they seem. Perhaps the series of disappointments that took you there were just protection from wandering on the wrong path.
Today, Florian and I live in a small village in the middle of forests and vineyards—the very same land that inspired Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm to collect fairy tale stories and write them for children, now known as Grimm’s Fairy Tales—the stories I read and imagined my life to be one day, once upon a time.